


Various Snippets Which Conjured Themselves in my Mind and Wouldn't Leave me Alone Until I Wrote Them

by Atqueinstupracaballum



Category: Julius Caesar - Shakespeare
Genre: Also a somewhat ill Caesar aka a somewhat bitchy Caesar, Assassination Mention, Because what's a Julius Caesar fic without all three of those things?, Blood, I'll add more tags later I can't be bothered right now, ITS CRACK, Imagery, M/M, Speaking of Chapter 2, We've got bastards with coronets and angsty Antony's on the menu tonight, Why did I do this you ask? Do you think I know?, concerning chapter 1
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:14:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21842779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atqueinstupracaballum/pseuds/Atqueinstupracaballum
Summary: Exactly what the obnoxiously long title says. Two drabbles and one longer snippet that's absolute crack.I may or may not add on to this trifecta later, only time can tell.
Relationships: Mark Antony/Julius Caesar
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	1. Two drabbles with crap titles

Fourth times the charm - 

“Are you feeling well after such a splendid performance, O’ great Caesar?” The receiver of the question gave the speaker pointed, question answering look. At once Antony, who stood at the chamber door, interpreted this stare, and stepped forward. “I see now the question was foolish, do forgive me, but I intrude only to make you a happier man.”  
“As you have said many times before, Antonio.” Spoke Julius Caesar as he lay in bed, pale and frowning, watching not without wariness as his guest closed the door behind him. Antony only laughed, it was not his usual boisterous bark, but rather, this was softer, less imposing, more smug. He was planning something, hands tucked neatly behind is back. “And only half as many times have your claims been lived up to.”  
“Oh but Caesar, you know that is not true, if it were you would have guards to ward me off. You are cruel to me!”  
“I am ill, and you are no bedside maiden nurse...unless you have come bearing wine, water, or silence, I must ask you to make haste away.”  
“I come with none of those three things, but with something much more priceless. Please, Caesar, allow me to stay awhile,you shan’t regret it.” he paused a moment, mostly for effect. “Besides, you know very well, while I can not be your nurse, I can be your maiden for a little while.” For once, the weak man was not in the mood for his friends amorous activities, and so scowled at him. They stared at one another for a moment, before at last his curiosity overcame his growing headache.  
“Very well, what have you brought me? Let us see what is so worth the minutes I could be using instead to rest.”  
“It shall be done directly. Today was a spectacle, to be sure, were you satisfied with my execution? Yours was, of course, without flaw, so surely your hand brushed away my offerings, and so loud did your loyal subjects cry, it was all quite marvelous, before, of course, your fit. Ay, and the way which you bore your throat out to the public,you had not mentioned beforehand you were to do that, I commend you, it was a very nice touch. In any case, you paid the price, a dastardly one, I’d say, for I fear you now look less like a god and more like horse shit, and I dare presume you feel just as poorly. Therefore, I think it is time, just as you paid, to receive. Here, my Caesar.” He finished his speech with an action, one which forgave his previous insult. From behind his back his hands came, held in them was that same coronet, with its finely crafted metals and precious jewel, which earlier that day had been denied in front of the crowd.  
Julius’ eyes lit upon the object, for a moment a smile betrayed him and flickered upon his lips. In his stare there grew a certain hunger, the same that he had barely conquered the first three times Antony had, according to their agreement, offered it to him.  
“See, already you are a happier man, my promise has been fulfilled, and I intend now to surpass it. Bow your head, just so, and let it be the last time you ever do so to any man.”  
And so, without thought, led on by Antony’s flattery, he bent his head, better allowing his friend to crown him.  
After the deed had been done, and the other mans hands had come away, and Caesar had once more raised his chin up proudly, a silence came upon them momentarily, they considered one another and the handsome coronet, which tomorrow would be replaced, when the Senate made him king, by a true crown, fit for a man such as Julius Caesar.  
The moment passed and both men's laughter rumbled through the room.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The A in Antonius stands for A N G S T - 

He dared not look down, for fear that it would be real. His hands were sticky. Already he had seen the body, stretched upon stained Senate halls, traitors flanking it on every side, blood dripping from their hands, glistening off their fingers, slipping like wine downwards, transferring thickly to his own.  
He would awake, like he had so many times before, and perhaps, he dared to hope, Julius Caesar would lay in gentle sleep besides him, blood still held within his body as nature commanded, not pouring out of it, and heart still beating. When Antony tells him of his dream, Caesar will laugh, he always does.  
Antony stooped down, dipping his hands into the shallow stream of river water, still refusing to look. When had he come upon this river? By what way did he come? To these questions he had no answers.  
As the cool water nipped at his flesh, the past hours of his life came to him, an uncaring thumb against the wounds of his psyche, harsh blurs in which there was contained the men and women of Rome, gawking upwards at him as his own voice rang out from the pulpit, never so impassioned. A hound growled, gnashing its teeth, howling with the plebeians as its lead was slackened and it was let loose upon those who had so offended that gruesome corpse, that noble man, the king.  
_Caesar._  
The word pounded in time with the baying of hounds. War trumpets blared, funeral bells chimed, Antony rose from the stream. His feet began moving, he was walking, though he knew not where. His throat burned in an unpleasant manner and his foot caught on a jagged rock, yet he did not fall, Marcus Antonius never fell, that is why Caesar loved him and trusted him.  
_Caesar._  
This was no dream, the thought snaked inwards,crawling like a serpent through the victim's heart, clawing away the comforting veil of illusion. Before, he had cried a handful of tears, even once stepping from the pulpit, earning from the people a groan of pity, just as Caesar had taught him to do, and wept over the most noble body in all the world, laid to violent waste, blood not yet dried, still glistening against brutal injuries, where traitorous knives had plunged. Then, fury beyond any he had felt before fueled him, like a flame to dry brush, his heart had exploded in an inferno, and it had served him well. He had done his duty as a lover of Rome and its leader, but his heart, which he had proclaimed was tucked into the casket of Caesar, was left to wither. Now his reeling mind was collecting itself,only to be once more shattered in the oblivion of emotion when faced with reality. What gripped him now was not the devil of vengeance or fury, nor even the offence of betrayal, now it was another shadowy beast entirely.  
_Caesar._  
Brutus should have allowed him to lay next to his Caesar, _that_ would have the honorable thing to do.


	2. Deafness and Dumbassery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you want explanation as to what this is you came to the wrong place because I do not have answers

“He does know…” The words died on Brutus’ tongue as he further watched the spectacle taking place before his and his friends' eyes. Caesar had entered onto the ante chamber of the Senate, the rest of his fellow patricians, after paying their respects, had went about their business well enough, blurring together as they mauled about in their fine drapery and gesticulated with ringed hands. No one paid all that much mind, in their own chattering, to Mark Antony, who, of course, had taken to his side. Brutus and Cassius, contraily, could not take their eyes off of him.  
Cassius bit back a cruel snicker. “Perhaps he is unrecovered still from a night of leisure.” he muttered.  
“Should we intervene…”  
“Why?” Demanded Cassuis, if ever he could bring himself to scoff at his dearest friend, he would have scoffed.  
“Look at his manner, Cassius, the way his shoulders stress themselves, and the mean glare of determination, bordering, if one dare borders it with Caesar, agitation, which sits on his brow. Whatever he wishes, and is unable, due to his own misjudgment, to convey, must be of the utmost importance.”  
“If Mark Antony wishes to make a fool of himself, I say, let it be so. Now come Brutus, the meeting should commence, if Caesar wills it, soon enough.” Still Brutus gave a last glance to the other two men, lingering on Antony, who seemed to grow more frustrated with his quiet, though seemingly hurred rhetoric, which landed quite literally on a deaf ear, still thoroughly and innocently convinced that whatever the news was that the general wished to impart, that it must be of the utmost importance.  
……  
_Earlier that morning…_  
Caesar was not a hard man to rile up, in fact, one had only to mutter a few filthily provocative things into his ear every few minutes, accompanied by supposedly innocent touches, and one would quickly find themselves in the shadows of some tucked away pillar, feeling the wrath of god, and a son of Venus, more personally than ever before. And so, with a lustfully diabolical plan rattling around in his wanting mind, he stumbled away from whoever's house he had been a guest to (there had been a party last night, and much wine, and many pretty people, he did not remember much else) and scurried to the Capitol, arriving earlier than ever before (that is to say, he arrived on time, instead of 'fashionably’ late), and waited patiently.  
Never had he been more relieved when finally he caught sight up ahead of the man he had been silently salivating for all morning. (Well, he was not so silent as he threw himself off the floor, or flung on whatever toga may have been about, when in such cases he would mutter something about wanting to get ‘rammed like a horny bitch on Lupercalia’). When Julius at last came close by, Antony, with joyful, smiling hailing's, came to his side directly, his left side, to be precise. He thought nothing of it as they walked, putting a hand on Caesar’s arm and shifting more intimately towards him as they continued walking.  
He would start simple, he thought, and so complimented Caesar on his apparel.  
Caesar only smiled in response, but it was not the ‘Oh Antonio you endear me by saying things I already know, do keep doing it. What would I do without you, my sweetest, most handsome, most loyal parrot’ smile he usually gave to him, but his general ‘Ah, you exist, and you used that existence to vote for me and my various favorites, very well,’ and Antony became aware rather quickly that the smile had been pointed at some pale twink of a politician. Antony was not well pleased by this, prefering to be the only twink in Rome that possessed Caesar's undivided attention, especially whilst he, in all of his twinkishness, was speaking directly to him. Therefore, he tried again, leaning in further, more crassely shedding light on the image of such fine clothing scattered on the floor of his bedroom.  
Nothing, not even the smallest hitch of breath. It occured to Antony now that he might be intentionally hiding his reaction, just to get under his volatile lovers skin, to test him. This inspired many things, including seven extremely bad ideas, three mildly bad ideas, and two actually good and decent ideas. The good, decent ideas, of course, were discarded at once, and it took him only a moment to grapple between higher chaos and lower.  
His goal, after all, was to get the guts fucked out of him, and if that meant risking his guts getting shanked out by Caesar instead, but ensured a higher likelihood of his goals accomplishment, then by the gods above he would take such risks. After all, that is what, thus far, his career had been built on, and that is why Caesar had first begun valuing him.  
So he grew even crasser, and determined, creating a most indecent aside with his dearest, most noble, partner.  
Still, nothing.  
Now Antony grew annoyed, flustered even. Usually by now, given what was coming out of his mouth, he would have been floored and gutted, in whatever manner his dictator saw fit. Alas, nothing, Caesar continued onwards, waving to any onlookers, working the crowd silently, once tugging his arm a bit out of Antony's succubus grip.  
Brutus was looking at him, Antont felt it before he saw it. It was a questioning look, one that begged pardon, and simmered with some concern. Cassius was snickering.  
At what?  
_What a bunch of flakey bastards._  
So he ignored them, even when Brutus gave him an odd hand motion, and continued his failing plot, until at last Caesar called for the meeting to begin with haste, cutting Antony off before lowering his voice.  
"Come now Antonio, you've been oddly silent this morning, you are not ill are you?"  
That seemed like an insulting blow, and so Antony stopped, thrust into intense bitchy moping. He didn't favor Caesar with an answer, to which he got an odd side eye.  
Nonetheless they conducted themselves to the Senate hall, and took their seats at the head of the ordeal.  
All through the session, Antony didn't say a goddamn word, his bitch levels higher than the hole in an atrium ceiling.  
After the meeting, Julius Caesar took him aside.  
"What is the matter, Antonius, has Pluto drug you through a muddy shrub? Or have you lost your pocket money in gambling again-”Julius, depsite his geniune concern, and despite being the fucking Caesar, was cut short.  
“No, Caesar, neither, I am of fine health, both physically and financially...” snapped Antony.  
“Then why speak with such a tone.” He was frowning deeply now, not appreciative of his friends conduct.  
“Well, what does my tone matter when you don’t listen anyway.”  
“Marcus”  
“Don’t Marcus me- wait one moment, hold on. Am I a vase to you?”  
“Pardon-”  
“Unpardoned- hault- I’m angered, and you shall answer for that, I don’t give a shit if you’re a dictator, that won’t fucking stop me- damn you to hell! I am not some mere dog at your feet, which you can pay attention to when you wish, and not pay attention to when you wish not to.”  
‘Antony what in Jupiter’s name are you-” Once more, he was cut off.  
“I declare my scoundrel stupidity should have the audience it demands!” Antony’s voice had risen, some prying eyes were beginning to wander towards them.  
“You were not-”  
“I was!”  
“When”  
“Directly when I joined your side, before that damned meeting! Have you not even the-”  
“Antony” Caesar’s interjection was ignored completely.  
“-Audacity to pay a bit of attention-”  
_“Antony”_ Caesar tried again, this time accompanying the warning with an iron like grip on Mark Antony’s neck, not hard enough to cut off circulation but forceful enough that, certainly, it did shut him up for a moment, and quelled his injured pride into flight or fight instincts. “How loudly were you speaking?” His voice was deathly calm. That wasn’t good.  
“Well I shouldn’t want the rest of these god forsaken virgins to hear-”  
“Antony”  
“What!”  
“You were on my left side, were you not.”  
“Yes…”  
Caesar gave him a very long, very expectant, very degrading look. Then it hit him. _Caesar was fucking deaf in that…_  
“I knew that!” Yelled Antony, mortification swamping over him as he turned scarlet and purple. Caesar laughed at him. Continually, Caesar laughed at him, drawing even more attention to themselves, though no one dared, seeing the disturbed look in Antony’s eye, come near to see what was happening.  
“Oh you stupid hungover wench, what have you done to yourself? Is this the man I chose as my second hand? The man I may one day enrust a portion of my Empire to? Well, tell me Antony, tell a curiously earnest heart, what is it you wanted of me?”  
To say something broke in Antony would not be completely truthful, given that everything had already been broken. He lashed out, in his own way, grabbing his superior by his toga.  
“Do you see my spine, great, beloved, mighty Julius Caesar?” Now his voice was dangerously low.  
“Antony- let go of me, you’ll ruin the guc-”  
“Do you see it, Caesar.”  
“Yes, perhaps, I’ve seen evidence of it before, why?”  
**_“WELL I WANT YOU TO TAKE THAT SPINE, AND I WANT YOU TO FUCK IT RIGHT OUT OF ME DAMN IT.”_**  
He did not bother controlling the volume of his voice, and it echoed more then once around a very, _very_ confused Senate.


End file.
